


Make Me Think We've Never Been

by leetaeyongs



Series: New Year's Eve [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, you dont have to read the first part if you dont want to but it adds context
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 12:35:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21410281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leetaeyongs/pseuds/leetaeyongs
Summary: Jaebum was, for a lack of a better description, not ready to see the man who had left his broken heart melting over a plate of fried rice.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Mark Tuan
Series: New Year's Eve [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543417
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	Make Me Think We've Never Been

**Author's Note:**

> i decided to add onto this lol

_Chicago, two years later._

Black coffee stank. 

Stirring his spoon in something that didn’t even really needed to be stirred, Jaebum took a long, slow sip of the sickly liquid. He rubbed at his chin with his free hand. A stubble was growing. Perhaps he should give _No Shave November_ a try this year.

A small breeze flew in through the open kitchen window, blowing on the steamy cup so that he didn’t have to. He yawned, setting the half-full mug down onto the counter and stepping barefoot onto the cold tile floor. Jaebum dragged himself across his small home’s expanse, eyes lidded and mind hazy. It was quiet, too quiet in his home. The only audible noises were the soft whistling of wind outside, contrasting with his creaky footsteps thundering against the floor. 

It had been two years. Two, long, empty years.

He didn’t think about it too much anymore. It was always at the back at his mind, but he never let it completely resurface. The memory would always be six feet under.  
Jaebum didn’t even know where he was walking. There was no interest in this bleak home. He collapsed on the couch, legs kicked up on the small coffee table ahead of him, head tilted back. It was a Sunday morning. He scratched at his now reddish-orange hair, twisting the strands in between his fingers and tugging every once in a while. 

Jaebum frowned. It was growing out faster than he moved across his home. An investment towards the haircut fund jar might be useful. 

Did he even have a haircut investment jar?

His thoughts wandered. 

Before he knew it, he was floating back into his foggy headspace, eyes fluttering close as he let the sweet sense of sleep take over. This wasn’t a battle worth fighting. It was best just to admit defeat and surrender to the enemy. He let his nonexistent sword fall out of his hold as he breathed in slowly through his nose. 

If there was noise in the background of all this mindful commotion, he didn’t allow it to enter his sleepy hollow. Jaebum wanted to sleep, to rest, to shut his eyes for a little longer than forever. He sunk into the welcoming cushions with an exasperated sigh. It was finally _quiet._

Then the doorbell rang.

His pupils begged for mercy underneath the harsh morning light. It took him a good thirty seconds to rise to his feet, stepping out of his man cave and trudging towards the door. The doorbell rang again. 

_I swear to God_, Jaebum’s inner monologue supplied. _If it’s the mailman, I’m gonna kill him._

Gripping the handle with one hand, he raised the other in a fist as he swung the door ajar. He was ready to punch the life out of whoever decided to destroy his peace of mind, to yell and scream, to hurt--

Jaebum was, for lack of a better description, not ready to see the man who had left his broken heart melting over a plate of fried rice. Curious eyes stared back at him as his mouth hung open in pure shock. 

_“Mark?”_

\---

The tension in the room was what could only be described as _awkward._

Two years. Not a few days, not a couple weeks— two _years._ That’s how long it had been since Jaebum had seen this man, and suddenly, he was sitting in his living room as if they still lived together. 

That night...he remembered it like it was yesterday. Cold air, slush-covered boots, his constant nervous gasps of breath as he fought to keep his composure. The bright neon lights of the restaurant that taunted him with each letter, beckoning him inside and punching the truth out of him. Fished out with a fork and thrown on Mark’s plate to swallow. 

Oh, how great things would be if he had just kept his mouth shut. 

Jaebum thrummed his fingers against each other as he looked down at the ground. Mark was seated on the couch across from him, unmoving.  
It was like a randomized game of chess. Both players had forgotten whose move it was, but at this point, it didn’t matter who attacked first. Anything but this dead silence would be great.

With a sigh, Jaebum moved his pawn. “Why are you here?” He questions, barely lifting his gaze to take in the sight of Mark in all his aged glory. At age 25, he looked smaller, lighter, almost like he had let himself go in the opposite direction.

“Your hair,” Mark began. “It’s different.”

Jaebum chewed at his bottom lip.

“I got tired of black. I wanted to try something new.” He eventually replied, forcing himself to look up and meet the eyes of this perfect stranger. Mark gives him a sad smile.

It got quiet again. The entire scene reminded him of the silence that followed the door shutting behind Mark as he ran out on Jaebum’s confession. He feels a shiver run up his spine as he pushes the memory forward. Jaebum opts for shutting his eyes. Two years really _was a long time._

“Jaebum, I…” 

_Here it comes_, Jaebum thinks to himself. One half of him didn’t want to hear the excuse, and the other half wanted to never have to see that sad, desperate smile ever again. Behind his eyelids, he travels on Memory Lane. The road is paved with paused frames in his life’s grand documentary, and he steps on each sequence for a second longer than he should. _The beginning of the end._

“I’m sorry--”

“Don’t.” Jaebum whispers. His resolve crumbles like a pitiful London Bridge, tumbling at his feet. Some sick part of his mind wants the bridge to take Mark with it. Mark and all his stupid sincerity, smiles, and laughter. Frustration bubbles inside him as he clenches his fists at his sides, eyes hammered shut as he battles his own self for a drop of calm in this blazing Sahara. 

“Jaebum, just listen to me--”

“I said I don’t want to hear it!” He finally snaps, eyes flying open to bring him face to face with what he wishes he didn’t have to witness.

Mark, gaze blown wide, eyes starting to pool with the onset of tears.

And Jaebum…

He can’t do this. It’s too much, too soon. Simply allowing himself to accept the love that he once felt for this man crushed him. He didn’t ask to fall in love, he didn’t _deserve_ this. 

_Once_, he tries to remind himself. It was once. _You aren’t in love with him anymore._

At the thought, something inside of him shatters.

Jaebum falls to his knees on the carpeted floor around him, and Mark catches him, but he can’t feel it. He doesn’t _want_ to feel it. He wants Mark to go, to never come back, to leave him like he did all those days ago and just pretend like nothing ever changed. 

However, no matter how much he may try to convince himself that he truly wants for that to happen, Jaebum knows deep down that he’s lying to himself. He couldn’t bear to hurt Mark’s feelings. Even though Mark broke his heart in two and left it to rot, Jaebum would still do anything to make his childhood friend beam like the ray of sunshine that he always seems to be.

“You said it yourself. You said we couldn’t do this,” Jaebum croaks, voice crackling and muffled in the warm comfort of his palms. “You _left_, Mark. There’s no reason for you to be here. I don’t want your friendship.”

Mark gaped at him. “I never said anything--”

Jaebum stands, shoving Mark as far away from him as possible, sending him tumbling into the couch. A barely there twinge of regret almost stops him from running his mouth. “I’m not stupid, Mark! I know you were thinking it! I’ve known you for years-- you wanted us to be brothers and nothing else. I saw the look on your face, okay? We’re grown men, Mark. If you don’t want a relationship, then I’m not gonna force one on you. You ran out on me, and that’s fine--”

“What were you expecting, Jaebum?” Mark finally shouts, calm demeanor lost in the storm. “Did you expect me to take your hand in marriage right then and there? It doesn’t _work_ like that! You never even gave me time to think it over. I was going to come back for you, not even a week later, only to find out that you fled the country. I wasn’t the one who ran out, Jaebum. It was _you_.”

Jaebum pauses, mouth open as he searches for a response. Where was the rebuttal, the argument that was building up in his throat only seconds ago? Mark’s words loop in his head like the b-side of a broken record. This wasn’t Jaebum’s fault, was it? He was the sensible one. He was the mindful one. He _knew_ that what he did didn’t deserve the backlash it ended up receiving. 

...Unless it did?

Mark was-- was he right? What _was_ Jaebum expecting? For him to accept the confession with open arms? A happy ending with no true feelings involved? Mark, on one knee, waiting for him on his doorstep?

The taste of black coffee hung heavy in his mouth. For once in his stubborn life, he was…

He was _wrong._

“I’m…” He couldn’t bring himself to look up at the sight of Mark in tears, ashamed of his childish actions swallowing him whole. “I’m sorry, Mark.” 

Mark didn’t reply, but Jaebum could hear him intake a sharp breath.

“...I was just so scared. That you were disgusted with me for falling in love with you. I’ve been rejected before, but from you, it just...it killed me. I felt horrible for putting you through that. I shouldn’t have been so abrupt about it. I’m sorry.”

The more he thought about it, the worse his past seemed to get. 

He hears footsteps, and then is suddenly being pulled into Mark’s current, tugged into a warm hug that has the pieces of his broken heart melding together. Jaebum doesn’t think he deserves this second chance. Why hasn’t he been kicked to the curb yet?

“Stop apologizing. What’s done is done, right?” Mark mutters. “I’m here now. We can start over. Nothing’s too broken to find a way back, Jaebum.”

“But I was ignorant. I was ignorant to what you wanted, and I’m sorry--”

Mark swats as his head with an amused click of his tongue. “I said stop apologizing. If you make me cry again, I’ll kill you.”

“I’m sorry. I missed you, I’m sorry.” Jaebum repeats like a prayer, chuckling despite the overwhelming warmth of a heavy weight being lifted from his heart. Even if the feeling isn’t mutual yet, he’s fine with this. He missed this, he needed this. Mark simply runs his fingers through Jaebum’s hair, whispering words of comfort that he can’t even process right now. Reassurance crashes over him like a tidal wave. Things were okay now. Jaebum no longer had to feel alone. Mark was here, hugging him, still somehow beaming through the tears.

He holds him close in a way that makes it seem like they never fell apart.

**Author's Note:**

> thankz for reading <3


End file.
